


Scars Of The Past

by dark_musician



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_musician/pseuds/dark_musician
Summary: Anne always plays the clown, ever cheerful. But is that the truth? Does the past really not affect her?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	Scars Of The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: vomiting (not descriptive) and talks of death/execution

Catherine knew something was wrong when she heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen at four fifteen in the morning, something that wasn't unusual in a house full of women who had five hundred years or so worth of baggage.

What she didn't expect to find, however, was none other han Anne Boleyn sitting on the floor in the kitchen, mop pail in front of her and a cold compress pressed to her head.

"You look horrible."

The words slipped out before she could catch them, however, Anne just sent her a look before retorting:

"My neck and head is killing me."

That's all it took for Aragon to find herself closing the distance between them, kneeling on the floor beside of her.

"Have you taken anything for it?"

Anne managed a nod before suddenly lurching forward, body heaving slightly.

It was odd (for Aragon at least) to think about how different they were in this life. Back then, she couldn't have imagined fussing over the girl so much, yet here she was trying to comfort her while she was sick.

"I swear it hurt less when my head was chopped off."

Anne muttered after she had leaned back, leaning against Catherine's side.

"So much for a sword being painless."

Aragon muttered, not exactly meaning for Anne to hear her, however, judging by the scoff she got in response she had.

"It was like white-hot coals at first then just a numb pang...Worst of all...You don't die right away....You can still see and hear. I heard their cheering, Catherine. That was the last thing I remember hearing. People celebrating that I was gone."

Catherine felt anger swell up in her at that. Sure, in the past they had more–or–less hated each other and she herself had done her fair share of terrible things, but hearing the younger queen's voice break upon that recollection caused a odd sense of protectiveness to swell inside of her.

No one deserved _that_.

Not even Anne.

Yet, for what was probably the first time in her life, Catherine of Aragon found herself at a loss for words. Just what could one say to comfort someone about the memories of their death?

Especially a death so brutal?

"You know, sometimes migraines are caused by tight muscles. Perhaps a warm compress along your neck would help?" She suggested instead, earning a sound that could only be described as a whine.

"I'm not moving."

She had to bite back a chuckle and shake her heard at that.

"Then do you trust me to touch you? If you would like to try that is." Catherine questioned and after several minutes, Anne looked up.

"Catherine if you wanted to hurt me, you done would have found a way to. 'Course I trust you."


End file.
